It's early Febuary 2011, early evening. I'm stood in the back yard of the small terraced house me and Claire rented. The same terraced house I had proposed to her in on Christmas day, just over 12 months ago. It's five months until the wedding and Claire isn't there, she's in hospital.
Back inside, Claire's wonderful mother Jan is knocking together a quick meal, but before I can eat it I have a call to make. Claire's Dad (also, confusingly named Mark) will want to know what's happening with his daughter who he affectionately refers to as his 'Big Princess' (Because she's the eldest, not because she's fat). It's not a call I'm looking forward to, but rather than plan and obsess over what I was going to say I hit call and wait for him to answer.
'Hi Mark, it's Mark,' I say in my best fake cheery voice.
'Hi Mark, what's happening,' says the worried sounding voice down the line.
'Okay,' I begin, 'Now we've spoken the Doctor and Claire has to have some treatment, now when I tell you what the treatment is your first instinct will be to panic. Don't panic, okay?'
'Okay,' he replies, suspiciously.
'Right, good, the Doctor says she has to have six months of Chemotherapy...'
'OH MY GOD!'
'I SAID DON'T PANIC!'
An hour earlier I had sat at Claire's bedside with Jan in a hospital ward with walls that had been painted a curious shade of yellow for some reason. It was here that Claire's Rheumatologist had explained to us that Claire's Lupus was flaring and not only was it flaring it was flaring quite badly, attacking her kidneys.
This came as somewhat of a surprise as up until that point I had thought 'flares' whilst unpleasant for Claire were fairly harmless, mainly resulting in tiredness and aching joints. However, I am about to find out how serious Lupus is.
Not only is Claire's immune system attacking her kidneys, her kidney's are failing. I am suppressing the panic that an hour or so later I will warn Claire's Dad about.
By putting Claire on a course of Chemotherapy, they will, in her Rheumatologists own words, 'Use a Sledgehammer to crack a nut.'
To be honest, it all sounded pretty straightforward, the Doctor explained the situation in that wonderfully calm, understated way that the NHS's finest do. By the end of the conversation he has made the treatment sound so marvellous that not only has my initial panic subsided, not only am I sure that chemotherapy is the best option for Claire, I'm also considering having a bit myself.
I'll tell you what, if being a Doctor didn't work out for him he could have a second career selling ice to eskimos.
If you've got this far along as I take us on a trip down memory lane you may be beginning to suspect that I am either incredibly optimistic or incredibly naive. Actually I'm both, this manifests itself in what I call 'The incredible power of denial'.
The incredible power of denial got me through many a dark day while the woman I love was having her body pumped with harmful chemicals.
'It might affect my fertility,' Claire would say.
'Not with my sperm, they're like the SAS' I would reply.
'My vomit is blue,' Claire would groan,
'Really? Can I have a look?' I'd enthuse.
'What will you do about the wedding?' people would ask us.
'The wedding is going ahead,' we would both say firmly.
Now you may think that denial is a bad thing, even dangerous, but honestly, I think if I'd realised how serious the situation was at the time I wouldn't have been able to cope. Even now some of my friends and family have no idea how bad things were because at the time I underplayed it so much that they probably think Claire had a particularly nasty bout of flu.
The wedding gave us something to aim for, something to focus on and there was never a doubt in my head that it would take place, on schedule, as planned. Without the incredible power of denial I probably would have cancelled the bloody thing as soon as I heard the word 'Chemotherapy'.
Now I'm not suggesting that denial is always the answer. For instance, when you get that final demand for your Council Tax, you probably should pay it because all the denial in the world won't stop a court summons (incidentally this is also why Claire is now in charge of bills).
Which brings me back to the phone call, I don't remember the rest of it, I don't remember what Jan knocked up for tea but I hope that my denial assuaged Mark's fears at least for a short while because Claire had a battle to fight and a wedding to plan and we would need all the help we could get.
Luckily, whilst I may have been in denial but Claire sure as hell wasn't, so she had to use the other 'd' word, determination, and she has more of that than anyone I've ever met.
Even I can't deny that.
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